


Her Mistress's Favor

by toushindai (WallofIllusion)



Category: Baccano!
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Masturbation, Oral Sex, erotic love letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:17:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5951773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WallofIllusion/pseuds/toushindai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sent to a bizarre backwater city on an assignment of dubious legitimacy, Carla worries that she has been cast aside by Lucrezia. But then Lucrezia writes to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Mistress's Favor

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact, if you are a CarlaxLucrezia shipper, Carla's worry that her assignment in Lotto Valentino is a tactful dismissal becomes 200x more painful. But don't worry, I fixed it.

It had been a week since Carla and the rest of the Dormentaires arrived in Lotto Valentino, and Carla was beginning to understand the city. It still felt eerie, though: the peace that contrasted with the chaos of the rest of Europe, and the unease that contradicted that same peace. Without a doubt, there was something… _off_ about this place.

And so she was slowly coming to believe that her assignment was a legitimate one. She had feared, at first, that she had been sent here as a sort of de facto dismissal, shunted off to the backwoods for some unknown slight against the House Dormentaire. She’d wracked her brains to try to discern what she’d done wrong, and come up with nothing; she had conducted herself professionally, as she always did. If she had erred at all—

That was where she always had to catch her breath. If she had erred at all, it must have been on a personal level. And the only one to care about her personally among the House Dormentaire was Lucrezia. Lucrezia, who had on a number of occasions welcomed Carla into her bed. Lucrezia, whom Carla served with love and loyalty and a fervor that frightened even herself sometimes.

Lucrezia, who had not asked Carla to spend the night with her for almost half a year now.

Carla closed her eyes, trying to accustom herself to the idea that Lucrezia had moved on from her. It was of course well within her rights to do so, and far outside Carla’s to complain. She could see the sense in it, even. Their last time together had been—imperfect. Awkward. Hoping for something special, Lucrezia had presented Carla with a wooden replica of a man’s sex and a harness to hold it in place. Once Lucrezia had buckled it around Carla’s hips, Carla took one look at herself and flushed deep red with discomfort and another emotion that she couldn’t quite name.

Lucrezia draped herself over Carla’s shoulders, smiling her indestructible smile. “Well? What do you think?”

“I suppose this is where you tell me how ridiculous I look,” Carla answered, not quite able to make eye contact.

Lucrezia started in response. “What? No, darling, I don’t think—do you think you look ridiculous?”

“I feel ridiculous.”

“Why, then let’s take that off you, sweetheart.”

And so Lucrezia helped her free of the harness again, her hands caressing Carla’s rear as she did so. But Carla found herself shying away from Lucrezia’s touch rather than seeking it, that night, and they spent the night together only in the most literal sense. Lucrezia had _seemed_ affectionate still, despite Carla’s loss of nerve, but since then the most attention she’d given Carla was the same flirting she turned to everyone.

So, she had bored her mistress. It had been bound to happen, hadn’t it? Lucrezia bedded someone different every night, and Carla had never been sure what she did to compare. At least if this assignment in Lotto Valentino was a genuine one, then Carla could prove her continued loyalty to the House Dormentaire and hopefully keep some of Lucrezia’s esteem, if not her affections.

There was a knock on the door then, and Carla straightened and granted curt permission to enter. The newcomer was a courier who offered her a letter. Carla knew before he spoke who the letter had come from; as soon as he entered the room, the peach of her mistress’s perfume drifted towards her nostrils. She did not let that distract her; she took the envelope from the courier and dismissed him before taking a seat at her desk to read.

Lucrezia’s beautiful handwriting covered the page without crowding it. She was playfully businesslike at first, asking what Carla thought of the “Count Jester” (that would be Esperanza) and how she liked Lotto Valentino. Then were her orders: to keep a particular eye on the Third Library and the alchemy classes housed there, but to be wary of Dalton Strauss. Carla swallowed a frown. She had guessed at that much herself, and it stung slightly that Lucrezia thought she needed to spell it out. But Lucrezia was not here, and so of course she couldn’t read Carla with her usual flawless confidence. Holding that thought in her mind, Carla continued to read as Lucrezia’s tone took on a new, puzzling quality.

> Are you alone right now, darling? If not, you may want to take some steps to become so, as the rest of this letter is more personal in nature. I recommend asking the soldiers I sent with you to let you have some privacy. They’ll obey without a moment’s question—that’s what they’re best at, after all.

There was some empty space on the page after that, and the next paragraph began with _Now I hope you’ve done as I say_. Unsure of what her mistress had written next, but still obedient, Carla dismissed the soldier who stood by her door. As Lucrezia had predicted, he did indeed march out of the room, shutting the door behind him without an ounce of interest or any other emotion on his face. Shaking her head to dislodge the thought of how eerie they were, she turned her eyes back down to her mistress’s letter.

> Now I hope you’ve done as I say, because this next part of my letter is for your eyes only:
> 
> My dear heart, my Carla, tonight I miss you more desperately than you can imagine.

Carla caught her breath as everything she thought she’d known about the last six months shattered in an instant.

She read the sentence three more times, wondering if she were misreading it, misinterpreting it; but Lucrezia’s handwriting was impeccable, her meaning unmistakable. Carla felt relief flood her chest and had to breathe deeply before finally reading on.

> You’ve been on my mind incessantly this past month, and yet you’re out of my reach. I sent you out of my reach. I need your help to make sure Espy is tractable, darling, but I wish you could be here with me. If only I’d taken you to bed before you left, I might not be troubled so. And I meant to, truly I did! But that surprise visit from the marquis and marquise distracted me. I should have made them wait their turn and given you my attentions first.
> 
> But I can’t fix anything by regretting it. I can only make sure you know how much I’m longing for you right this instant: how I wish it were your hands instead of my own sliding lustily over

—Oh, dear god.

Carla nearly shoved the letter away from her; her eyes shut of their own accord as a flush bloomed across her face. Her every instinct screamed that she had happened across something impossibly private—something that was not for her to know. In the past months, she had done her best to follow Lucrezia’s lead and steer her thoughts of her mistress away from the sexual. Lucrezia’s privacy was her own, and Carla understood that, even if she was not always successful in quelling her own lust.

But now Lucrezia had sent her _this_ , deliberately, and Carla felt like her skin was on fire. The paper trembled in her hands. Common sense suggested that she should save the letter for another time instead of reading it now, when she was about to begin her duties for the day, but common sense wasn’t going to win this battle. Her eyes opened again—how could they not?—and she read on.

> how I wish it were your hands instead of my own sliding lustily over my skin, teasing at my thighs. Or better yet, your mouth: your hot little lips closing around my nipple and sucking until I squeal. You know it isn’t difficult to make me squeal. And then you’d march your beautiful mouth down to my pussy and taste all of me. I love to clasp your hands while you take your time down there, sucking and licking and then digging your wet tongue deep inside of me like you want my cunny to swallow you whole. Let me come all over your face, my darling; let me be the only one to disturb your flawless composure. Oh! There are no words for how much I love your secret side, your hunger and greed for me. I wouldn’t need words if you were here. All I’d need to do is push you back in bed and give you what you want. Oh, I miss your taste, Carla. I miss the sound of your breaths, your mewls, your moans, your shrieks when I manage to surprise you. I miss the feel of your skin, the way it’s always so warm as if you’ve swallowed the sun you spend so much time in. I miss the sight of your face when you give your mind up to your body and let lust have its way with you. I miss your gorgeous muscles, how hard and powerful your thighs feel in my hands or clenched around my head. Oh, how I want to bury myself in your pussy and drink you up! I want to win your pleasure out of you and hear you call my name, I want to feel you tremble as you spend yourself, and then I want to lie with you, I want to rest with you in that beautiful glow and I want us to kiss each other until we drift off to sleep at precisely the same moment. Carla, Carla, why did I send you away? It’s just terrible, waiting to have what I want. You must take care of Lotto Valentino quickly so that you can come back to me and I can hold you again.
> 
> That’s an order, sweetheart.
> 
> With love,
> 
> Lucrezia

…Oh, dear _god_.

Carla finished the letter without lifting her eyes once, feeling her breath come fast and her heart race as she read. The peach scent lingering on the paper was making her hopelessly dizzy, and her eyes weren’t focusing right. She carefully folded the letter and placed it back on the desk, to stifle the temptation to read that long paragraph again immediately. Instead she reached for a handkerchief to mop up her brow and the back of her neck; they were damp with sweat. And the space between her legs was—she would definitely need to change before she went about her business for the day.

She stood on legs that wobbled and pressed a hand to her brow, trying to calm herself. It was only noon, and she had much to take care of before she could give that letter the attention it deserved.

But at least she knew now that she still had her mistress’s favor.

*

A week later, Carla’s response reached the Dormentaire manor. Lucrezia brought it greedily to her bedroom suite and dismissed the guards at her door before breaking the seal and scanning the letter with her eyes alight. Business, business—no particular progress in Lotto Valentino yet, but that wasn’t surprising; she hardly expected miracles from Carla. It was all business, almost reaching the end of the letter, but then, in a postscript—

> I thank you for your personal addendum to your letter of one week ago. While I am unable to write back in kind, I have read it several times over and find it more inspiring each time.
> 
> Yours always,
> 
> Carla Alvarez Santonia

Lucrezia blinked down at the postscript once before bursting into delighted laughter.

“ _Inspiring_ , she says!” she exclaimed, her words heard by no one. She held the letter to her chest and hummed with joy. “Oh, Carla, that’s just like you. I hope it wasn’t too much of a struggle to find the right words, hmm?”

But she suspected that it was, and imagined the sight: Carla curled over a desk by candlelight, face adorably red as she tried to find dignified words for what was, in the end, a spectacularly undignified concept. She pictured Carla squirming, her breath coming fast and her focus crumbling; pictured her standing and checking the lock on her door before she pulled Lucrezia’s letter back out. She imagined her unbuttoning her pants to stroke herself with Lucrezia’s name on her lips, the letter she was trying to write left forgotten for a little longer.

Lucrezia laid herself across her bed with a dreamy sigh, her eyes soaking up Carla’s handwriting as hungrily as though it were her naked form.

“I miss you, darling,” she murmured as her free hand began to roam down her body. “Oh, truly I do. But I know you’ll do a good job for me, and then I’ll be _sure_ to thank you.”


End file.
